Pouring him into bed
by MBP
Summary: Sam's upset about his father's infidelities, and Josh's planned night of drunkenness doesn't pan out. It's up to Donna to fix things.


Disclaimer: Obviously, I do NOT own the West Wing (though oh how I wish.)

Author's note: Somebody's Going to Emergency, Somebody's Going to Jail from season 2 is one of my all-time favorite episodes, and I just saw it again today and got inspired by the end. It's been WAY too long since I've written any fan fic, so this might be rusty, but at least it's a start.

Josh, Donna, and Toby stood together in the foyer, waiting.

"Should one of us go check on him?" Toby asked after ten minutes had passed, but Josh and Donna shook their heads simultaneously, then looked at each other. A flash of understanding passed between them, and Josh said quickly, "I think – he must've been calling his father, right? We can wait."

Toby looked at them and then cleared his throat and glanced at his feet, nodding brusquely.

Josh had just begun to ask Toby his thoughts on the pardons when Donna nudged him. He looked up to see Sam walking toward them, attempting a smile that looked more like a grimace, and they silently fell into step beside him as he walked out of the White House.

Once outside the gates, Josh took charge.

"We're getting Sam drunk, right?" he asked briskly. Taking the overly eager nods of Donna and Toby as confirmation, and ignoring Sam's complete lack of reaction, he said, "well, let's get started."

It took the four of them only a few minutes to walk to the nearest bar, and they managed to find a table in the corner, away from the crowds of political aides who always seemed to find them whenever they somehow managed to find a free minute.

But none of them knew what to say. Josh leaned towards Sam and said, "We should've invited C.J. She could've told you how the cartographers for social equality managed to find Brigadoon on this new map today."

Sam's lips twitched, and he said, "Nuts, huh? They all come out of the woodwork on Big Block of Cheese Day. Wonder if Leo will ever stop doing this. It's such a waste of time."

Donna stiffened, and she and Josh exchanged a look. If there were anyone on senior staff who could see the merits of such a day, it was Sam… and now he was ready to mock it just like the rest of them? This wasn't a good sign at all.

Toby shook his head. "I don't know, Sam," he said slowly. "You know the last place I wanted to go today was to that so-called protest, but it's possible one or two of those "radicals" actually heard what I had to say. That's got to be worth something, right?"

Sam shrugged, staring into his beer. He didn't look up again, and Donna sighed. This was not going as she'd hoped it would. In his office, at least, it seemed like Sam had turned a corner, but now… she knew where this was headed, and from the look on his face, it looked like Josh did, too. He motioned toward the bar, and Donna followed him from the table after mumbling an inaudible excuse.

From the bar, she and Josh watched as Toby and Sam sat together in what had to be an uncomfortable silence.

"He's not doing well," Josh said. It wasn't a question, but Donna nodded in agreement. "Did he say anything to you?" he asked. She shrugged uncomfortably.

"He's – well, you know he's upset about his father."

Josh sighed. "I do know. Maybe… maybe we should call it a night, and you can see if he wants to talk? I've been trying, but I've been annoying him."

Donna swallowed hard. She knew if she tried, she'd succeed… but she wasn't sure she was up for that kind of success. She also knew, though, that she didn't have much of a choice.

"Ok," she said quietly, and they made their way back to their table.

Josh yawned theatrically, and Donna tried not to roll her eyes.

"I think I'm going to have to call it a night," he said, shooting a meaningful glare at Toby, who blinked and then looked at Sam. Sam barely looked up, and Toby rolled his eyes and got to his feet, not even registering any surprise when Donna sat back down.

"See you tomorrow, Sam," Josh said casually, and Sam nodded, eyes still on his beer. Toby added his own farewell, to which Sam barely responded, and then they were gone, leaving Donna and Sam sitting alone in the booth.

"Sam?" Donna asked and was completely unsurprised when he looked up at last – and just as quickly looked back down. She hadn't missed the look in his eyes, and she said softly, "if you want to talk, I'll go back to your apartment with you. I think my roommate's home tonight."

Sam didn't say a word. He couldn't. He took a few bills out of his pocket, dropped them on the table, and got up, shrugging into his jacket and waiting for Donna to do the same. He didn't know why he was suddenly unable to say a word, but he knew that he couldn't sleep in the office another night, and the prospect of facing his apartment alone was suddenly terrifying.

The trip to his apartment was mercifully short if strangely silent. He still didn't trust his voice, but Donna didn't question why. If she thought about it, she knew she understood this better than Sam did, himself, and as soon as they were inside with the door locked behind them, she also was unsurprised when he sank onto his couch and buried his face in his hands for a moment.

She sat beside him and waited. She knew he'd talk now. She wasn't wrong.

"I don't know why …" he started, but he choked on "why" and couldn't go on.

Donna put her hand on his arm. "It's ok," she said, but he shook his head. His mouth twisted as he struggled for control.

"It isn't. It isn't ok," he tried to say, but his voice came out garbled, and then he was hunching forward, his face hidden in his hands as his shoulders trembled.

Donna swallowed hard, but she shifted closer so she could put her arm around Sam.

"You're right," she whispered. "It isn't ok. But it _is _ok to feel this way, Sam. Anyone would, and you know it. Your father isn't who you thought he was."

He nodded, and he sighed, leaning into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, avoiding her eyes. "I didn't want to put this on anyone else."

Donna shook her head. "We all care about you, and we've all been worried about you. That's what we do, Sam," she said, overriding his head shaking. "Stop shaking your head. Friends worry about each other, and there's not much you can do to change that."

"I don't want to change that," he practically whispered, and his voice caught. "I appreciate it. I just…" He let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know what to say to him – I don't know who he _is _anymore, Donna."

His eyes filled again, and he rubbed at them furiously. "He shouldn't upset me this much. I'm not a child. Why – why is he upsetting me _this much?_" he asked her, his voice suddenly plaintive. His face reddened, and he looked away, but she kept her arm around him and started rubbing his back slowly.

"Because no matter how old you are, he's still your father. Of course he can upset you like this. If our parents can't, who can?"

Slowly, Sam's breathing steadied. "That's a good point," he mused, and his voice sounded more like his own. He finally turned to look at Donna, and this time, he put his arms around her.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Getting drunk sounded good in theory, but I guess _this _was what I needed."

Donna hugged him tightly. "Glad to be of service," she said lightly, but she knew he could hear the sincerity in her voice, and when he pulled away, he smiled. _Now _he'd turned a corner. She sighed with relief. Josh had been right. Not that she'd tell him that, of course.


End file.
